Shannon Wright: ‘In Film Sound’

The album recalls Wright’s earliest efforts, frightening yet engrossing.

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“Hunger leaves such distaste,” sings Shannon Wright on the slow-burning self-immolation that is “Who’s Sorry Now,” on her latest album, In Film Sound (Ernest Jenning Record Company). It’s emblematic of the tense, discomforting oeuvre Wright favors from terse noisy bursts of guitar to moody minor key elegies. The long-standing Atlanta resident’s lyrics suggest a tortured ego echoing lines like, “No one can change you,” in the lingering piano track, “Bleed,” or declaring a realization, “No longer yours, no longer mine,” before erupting in steely post-punk guitar. The former Crowsdell frontwoman’s theatrical take enjoyed some critical adulation during in early aughts, but her former label’s (Touch & Go) demise has left her knotty genius better appreciated overseas than here in the states. The nine-song album’s stormy claustrophobia recalls her earliest efforts, frightening yet totally engrossing.



3 out of 4 stars